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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147264">Into Fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MippenIII/pseuds/MippenIII'>MippenIII</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hermitcraft RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempt at Worldbuilding, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, I can and will add tags at the last minute, Loss of Control, Non-Permanent Character Death, POV Multiple, Slow To Update, The Nether (Minecraft), Transformation, first attempt at a multichapter fic, new take on demon Tango, this time with friends</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:00:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,255</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MippenIII/pseuds/MippenIII</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Expose something to enough magic during a long enough time and it will be tainted and twisted by it. The more magic the object is exposed to the faster the changes will happen. If you let it happen for long enough, eventually it will come to a point when there is no turning back. </p><p>An update releases enough magic to do this in couple of days, entities doesn't stand a chance, and neither does players.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>impulseSV &amp; Tango Tek &amp; Zedaph (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. We need to go deeper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Go easy on me, this is my first multichapter fic and my second one overall. </p><p>But if you enjoy this, let me know. There is more on the way.</p><p>Don't expect any sort of schedule I'm posting these when I think they are done.</p><p>Also english is my second language FWI</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is a story about three hermits who involuntary took the step from human to something else, a painful step.</p><p>But the story does not begin with them. No, it begins a sweltering afternoon in one of many honeycoverd towers erected in the midst of a jungle. Their white shapes poking up and over the canopies, contrasting the dark green of the ground below. The air is hot and damp enough so just a short time outside will make anyone sweat, with exception to those that don’t sweat. (Jevin and Biffa are lucky in that regard, being a slime and an android respectively)</p><p>But the heat isn’t any mind to the admin, currently holed up in an airconditioned part of his towers, an open room with a stunning view of the canopies. In the corner you can catch a glimpse of Ethos amalgamation of an artistallation trying to pass as a base (whether that man is a genius or a madman eludes Xisuma to this day). With a start he realises that his focus has shifted from his task on the desk in from of him. His focus is particularly difficult today because of a problem, one that he didn’t even know how to approach. </p><p>Updating, particular because the update was happening in the nether so the barrier solution wasn’t possible this time.</p><p>No hermit wanted to move worlds so soon after arriving in this one. But being present in a world during an update is extremely risky. Magic is already unpredictable as it is and the sheer amount released under a world update is ludicrous. The update itself takes only a few moment but it can take a good few weeks for all the magic to dissipate. To expose players to that amount of magic constantly, especially when the magic isn’t being directed at something is dangerous at best and lethal at worst. To add to his troubles, this update is bigger, a total revamp of a whole dimension. Disabling all nether portals may not work, just a tiny spark of stray magic is enough to relight a portal. Exposure to magic is risky and Xisuma is’t willing to take that risk. What happened to Cub during demise is something he will never let happen again. The vex magic almost took him away from them.</p><p>He takes a deep breath and reclines away from the screens, staring at his ceiling instead so his eyes can rest and his thought collect. Bringing his thoughts away from unpleasant places (Cub is fine, he broke the contract with the vex to prevent it from happening to him or Scar ever again)</p><p>If he could disconnect the nether from the overworld while he lets the update run its course, and the keep it that way for as long as it takes for the residual update magic to disperse. </p><p>He began to feel slightly giddy at the realisation that he was approaching a breakthrough. </p><p>It could work, both to prevent the update magic to affect the hermits bases, all of whom have a nether portal inside or nearby. Redstone and entities are particularly sensitive to magic, so letting the updating take place separate from the overworld is a great solution. And too keep any hermits too impatient to wait out the time it would take for the magic to clear. </p><p>With renewed enthusiasm he began preparing to execute the update now that he had a foolproof plan of action. Tapping away at the controls. He was done with the coding within a couple of hours, encountering no further major roadblocks. The plan was to trigger the update and seperate the two dimensions within the same timeframe. To make sure none of the hermits were in the nether currently he quickly typed up a message in the chat:</p><p>&lt; XisumaVoid &gt; I’m initiating the update, you can expect to be able to explore the new nether within about two weeks. Make sure to stay clear of the nether within the next fifteen minutes</p><p>Soon most hermits had responded with a confirmation of not being in the nether. He assumed that the ones that didn’t respond either wasn’t in the nether or was making their way out, thus didn't see any reason in responding.</p><p>Now reassured that no hermit would be harmed when he initiated the update he waited out the fifteen minutes to maks sure any stragglers made it out.</p><p>00000</p><p> </p><p>Tango was currently sorting through his shulker boxes of end busting loot to see if he could find any armour for Zedaph that could take more of a beating than his current set. Zed has a habit of not putting a particularly big effort in getting high quality gear. And they (mostly Impulse) was worried that it wasn’t going to be good enough for a stint to the nether. It didn’t really matter to him, Zed can look after himself. But he wasn't going to use this stuff anyway. He thought as he put back the pair of boots cursed to tether themselves to their wearers feet until they died.</p><p>He, Impulse and Zedaph had met up at his base to gut the blaze farm before the update hits. Hoping to brainstorm up a new one in the new nether, not sure if the old design would survive or not. Zed is more proficient at redstone than many (including Zed himself) gave him credit for, so He and Impulse was planning on letting him loose on a farm project to see if he could provide them with some new angles, no one wanted to just build the same farms over and over again.</p><p>After sorting through the shulker he had come up with a few armour pieces for Zed to wear. </p><p>“Do you have everything? We don't want this to go like last time” Impulse said as he double checked his supplies.</p><p>“Yes, this time i am mr. prepared” Zed answered in his overconfident “worm-man voice”.</p><p>“yeah that's what you said last time” Tango said “and then see what happend”</p><p>“I mean you too Tango”</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I am completely blameless” He said with the fake innocence of a person who had no regrets.</p><p>“And if I allegedly played a part in what happend last time, It was completely worth it” His declaration made Zedaph break into giggles.</p><p>“Anyway, enough nonsense for now. Onwards!” Zedaph declared and pushed him and Impulse forward towards the portal.</p><p>Just as they were ready to take the step into the familiar black frame of the portal he felt his communicator vibrate. It was probably nothing, Beef had been confronted Keralis on why there was a tank pointed towards his resort and they had been going back and forth on the communicator the last thirty minutes.</p><p>But as soon as Tango made contact with the portal the familiar experience of travelling dimensions was replaced by another much more disorienting and forceful. His vision swam, his knees gave in. His lost balance resulted in him catching himself on the portal frame. Distantly he felt Impulse crashing into his side, not able to keep balance either. Before Tango could say anything to express his confusion a second, more powerful sensation grabbed him. Not unlike the sensation of a world jump only many times more forceful and disorienting. It grabbed hold of him and drew him into the depths of the portal, leaving Hermitcraft behind him.</p><p>His last conscious moments were moments of pure confusion and too many unfamiliar sensations for his brain to even begin to process.</p><p> </p><p>00000</p><p> </p><p>The update process was finally working, there would be no stopping it now. The nether would disconnect any second now. But before the admin could taste the satisfaction of a work completed and well done. Three small messages carried across his screen that with a single glance, plunged his stomach into ice and his mind into panic.</p><p>Zedaph has left the world</p><p>TangoTek has left the world</p><p>ImpulseSV has left the world</p><p>Questions began to rapidly spill in from the communicators. Those messages never came without warning, a hermit never left without a word.</p><p>&lt; BdoubleO100 &gt; WHAT</p><p>&lt; Iskall85 &gt; why did they leave? </p><p>&lt; Falsesymmetry &gt; What happened, X?</p><p>&lt; XisumaVoid &gt; They were in the nether</p><p>&lt; XisumaVoid &gt; When I started the Update</p><p>&lt; Keralis1 &gt; oh no, not like this</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hot tourist destinations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nether survival 101, Now in zedaph's POV</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>They wont be needing water to survive because plot integrity and game mechanics.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world was a big blur of red, the only place that has this much red is the nether. He was lightheaded and felt way to heavy for him to lift himself at the same time. Exhausted and battered like he had been subjected to waterboarding in the end portal. If he had to put words to it he would describe it as a magic hangover.</p><p>From his slightly swollen lips (had he landed face first?) he was able to muble some words in the vague direction of two human-shaped blurs “Tango? Impulse? are you okay?” </p><p>He got two groans in response. (they were fine.)</p><p>After lying around for a bit his sight cleared and the other side effects of a world jump gone sideways (the current theory of what the heck had happened) faded. He mustered up another question: “do you guy also have a magic hangover?” </p><p>“a what?” a wobby and confused voice from Impulse.</p><p>“a what?” a disoriented and amused voice from Tango.</p><p>“y’know, a hangover but with that extra flavour that only a strong surge of magic can give you” he explained. “like that feeling you get after respawn or when you go through an end gateway.” He felt like he was rambling to distract himself from their predicament.</p><p>The others didn't seem to have enough energy to care. Tango groaned as he attempted to rise his head off the ground. “what happened exactly?”</p><p>Impulse shot off the ground and stood and swayed for a while, having risen too quickly. “I think that’s the wrong question to ask” he said his eyes trailing the familiar hellish environment, as if he was looking for something. </p><p>“Where is our stuff?” Impulse asked. And he was right in asking that, Where was their stuff? He was as under equipped as the day he spawned in season seven.</p><p>“Did we respawn here or something?” Tango theorized “Hey, Just throwing that out there.” He added hastily. Tango had managed to sit up by this point.</p><p>By now Impulse looked like he had collected he bearings and had began cautiously scouting the area they appeared in. They were standing on a shelf of netherrack over an impressive lava ocean that stretched out until the fog obscured his sight. The only way they could walk was a narrow walkway rounding a corner. </p><p>“wait dont you think something is missing” Impulse announced. </p><p>“what?” Tango said “beyond all our bits you mean?”</p><p>“the portal, where is the portal we got here in? You can't get into the nether without a portal.” He said in an increasingly hectic voice. “What is the last thing you remember?”</p><p>“We were going in to the nether, something about our blaze farm and - ” Zedaph trailed off not able to recall anything after the preparations.</p><p>“Wasn't Xisuma going to update the nether sometime soon?” Tango said with a worried tone.</p><p>“Wait you think?” he asked in disbelief, desperately wanting anything other than the other blonde to confirm his question. </p><p>“He was going to keep the nether on lockdown or something.” he pointed out “until it was safe to enter.”</p><p>“That means we’re stuck here.” Impulse said with a heavy finality to his voice.</p><p>An overwhelming wave of dread hits him. The nether is lethal to fully equipped players. It would be at least twice as deadly to three morons without any gear.</p><p>Impulse took his communicator and began frantically typing on it. But after a minute he stopped. “it's no good guys, the messages aren't sending, i can't see the previous messages if I scroll up. “We must be in a different server of some sort.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I Want you to listen to me, if this really is a different server there is a possibility that its a hardcore one. And i don't want us to take any unnecessary risks if there is even a fraction of possibility for us to permadie.” His voice had taken an odd tone so fully removed from his usual voice full of smiles. But he was right, they didn't know the stakes and they had a lot to lose. He wouldn't take this lightly.</p><p>But keeping the mood up would be essential. And it was anything he was good at, it was being as silly as humanly possible.</p><p>His convicted train of thought was broken by Tangos voice sounding behind him. “That's a weird looking pigman.” And it was very wierd indeed, it looked just like a pigman but with more bits</p><p>“He has a snout.” Zedaph cooed. “he looks adorable.” He was definitely not drawing attention to the creature instead of the possibility of their impending doom.</p><p>Tango had whipped his communicator up to double check “It's apparently not a pigman, it’s something called a zombified piglin?”</p><p>“What's a piglin?” He asked, intrigued. “I have never heard of that mob before.”</p><p>“Me neither, but if there is a zombificated version there must be a unzombieficated version.”</p><p>“I'm not happy to cut this conversation short but you can go like this forever and we must get a move on if we want to find a good place for a shelter” Impulse butted in, looking a bit stressed. “and we need to sort out what we are going to do with the food situation sooner rather than later.”</p><p>The mood immediately sobers again at the mere mention of food. </p><p>“Yeah, what are we going to do about that” Tango began. “mushrooms? nether warts? can you even eat mushrooms outside of stews?”</p><p>“Don't do it, trust me, i've tried, and lets just say I wasn't okay for three days after.” Zedaph advised.</p><p>“why?” Impulse asked.</p><p>“science.”</p><p>“fair enough.” He shrugged, he was more than used to Zedaphs apparent lack of self preservation when curious.</p><p>They huddled together in an attempt to think coherently. After a bit brainstorming they had hammered out a semblance of a plan that Tango insisted was more like a priority list. Said list-plan went like this: </p><p>1. Food<br/>
2. Shelter<br/>
3. Other essential supplies<br/>
4. Exploration and familiarization of the environment<br/>
5. Figuring out how to get home / Holding out long enough to get rescued’</p><p>And thus the three bagan their quest to survive. </p><p>But the very climate is a worthy foe that he doubts they will be able to vanquish. For now it's enough to make him think he should've brought summer clothes.</p><p>“guys is it just me or is the netherrack softer than before” Tango sounded from the right, he shifted a little on his feet. “it's kinda creeping me out”</p><p>When they rounded a corner all three of them had to do a double take. Towering slightly above them was a wall of stone, a type of stone he had never seen before. like layers of stone pancked tightly together on top of eachother. Looking beyond it the Nether had seemingly changed into spiky structures of stone with ash billowing between the crevices.</p><p>The black stone was even cooler, but he couldn't help to grow increasingly wary about something behind their precarious situation. Something felt off about the air, beyond the heat and the dryness. Something otherworldly, he could only compare it to the air in strongholds or the feeling you get when you are about to throw a pearl into a end gateway. but not quite, more fiery, not as calm. If the gateways were akin to a flood then the impression here is a wildfire. Spreading all over before he could think, rising goosebumps over his skin as it settled over his very being.</p><p>He shook his head, trying to shake off whatever-that-was-supposed-to-be. It was just a reaction to a sudden displacement in temperature, those were common, and normal. Anyway, he had to explore this new nether, everything here is new and exiting. The others were going to be so jealous of them getting a headstart on all this. </p><p>So they began the trek into the new biome in hope to find somewhere more sheltered. And most importantly: a supply of food. Food really is their most dire problem, if they cant find anything within a day they won't have enough energy to continue searching, much less fending off any of the hostile mobs, or even healing after an encounter. Things were looking quite grim, but he can't let go of hope, if he were to let go he wouldn't be able to find it again. If he lost it their demise would be guaranteed. </p><p>Keep hope. </p><p>Make sure Impulse and Tango keep hope. </p><p>No matter what.</p><p>When they pass over the border from netherrack to basalt they get some relief to the pressing heat plaguing them. But they only need to take a single breath to start coughing. The air is thick with ash, the lava here is slow and flaking. The sight is bad and the skies are tinted grey. But it's this way or a lava ocean.</p><p>“We have to press on, there is no way back. Try covering your mouth and nose with cloth.” Impulse is quickly cut off by a painful coughing attack, the force of it bringing him to his knees. He and Tango quickly flock to his side to make sure he can breathe. When Impulse is standing up again they continue forward.</p><p>Hitching his cardigan over his nose and breathing through it helped a little but the ash stings in his eyes, making them tear up and bringing down his ability to see further. Impulse had taken the front, a glance at the left shows Tango beside him. How Tango looks is most likely a reflection of how he looks himself. Blonde hair flattened and grey with sweat and ash, face flush with heat. Eyes squinting with ash gathered in the eyelashes, teartracks making lines in the ash sticking to their face. But despite all this he still wears a stubborn determination like it was made for him. Zedaph finds himself mirroring the sentiment, swallowing down his doubts and continues forward. Climbing over sharp ridges of basalt and avoiding pitfalls of lava. Just to make it more interesting he has to look out for the abundance of magma cubes dwelling in the canyons between the basalt. </p><p>His only comfort is that these deltas aren't quite as warm as the rest of the nether. But all the moving more than makes up for it. He's never going to get all the ash out of this shirt when it dries in with the sweat.</p><p>Breaking out of his mourning for his clothes. He finally sees the ash cut off in front of them. Revealing a huge field with leagues of soul sand riddled with fossils so big that they only could belong to something similar to the ender dragon. </p><p>After recovering from their intense hike through the deltas they begin to take tentative steps out on the plains. The soul sand looks different, no matter how much his feet trample the sand, it always settles in the patterns of harrowing faces. That and pared with the vulnerable feel of the too open environment is highly unsettling.</p><p>“Were not settling down here right?” Zedaph said worriedly.</p><p>“no.” Tango said sharply. “No way, this valley is giving me the creeps.”</p><p>Tango takes a single step forward before a halloween shriek fills the air and the ground before them explodes into azure flames. He scrambles backward until his back hits a wall. Trying to gain as much distance between himself and the fields as possible.</p><p>To continue they walk in the edge between the deltas and the valleys. To avoid the blunt of the ash and still have cover incase a ghast locks onto them. After a long time that probably was two hours despite he having no evidence to back that claim up, There is a hind of yet another biome in the far distance.</p><p>Entering it shows a fog that is tinted turquoise and giant mushrooms that are strangely reminiscent of trees, despite the fact that the “bark” is lined with glowing veins. Are these some kind of trees? ‘Whatever they are there is only one way to find out’ he thought and walked over to a stem and began punching it. Like everything here it possessed a strange texture, strangely firm for a giant fungus but that only amplified his hopes for this working as a substitute for wood.</p><p>And it worked, he made something called warped planks. “These stems work as wood! We can make tools!” Within that instant hope showed in the other two faces, these measly wood blocks had multiplied their chances of survival tenfold.</p><p>“i'm gonna go see if that blackstone stuff can be used for stone tools.” Tango announced before he wandered off with a spring in his step that wasn't there before.</p><p>The next few hours were spent establishing a small shelter in between a netherrack wall and some particularly tall warped fungi. By now the fatigue and stress of the day seemed to have borrowed in his bones. He has no idea how long they have spent in here. But it has to have been at least seven hours and it was midday in the overworld when they arrived (assuming no time had passed between entering the portal and waking up) So it was past due time to rest.</p><p>Despite that he felt like he about five times heavier and walking through molasses, food was more important than sleep. He spent a good two hours trying to find some normal mushrooms. (he was going to try the new, brightly coloured ones but Impulse smacked it out of his hand before he could sink his teeth into it) But all he could find was a handful of malformed and wilted ones. Perhaps the new fungi are beating the old mushrooms at their own game. </p><p>The tarnished mushrooms are dry and there is no water to find anywhere. So he really shouldn't be surprised when the stew he tries to make ends up as a dry, sad glop.</p><p>The “stew” is way less filling than it is supposed to be and it leaves him unsatisfied. fatigue and itches from the residuing ash that refuses to be scrubbed off. His lower back, scalp and hands is particularly crawling.</p><p>The shelter is a small rickety thing for now, reminding him of countless first nights in new worlds. The walls feels strangely off with their otherworldly blue colour and soft texture. The inside is almost more unnerving than the outside with it’s false familiarity. He huddles closer together to the two forms beside him, seeking comfort despite the heat blanketing them. There is no way he knows of to make beds here but even if he knew they would only blow up in their faces. When he eventually passes out it could be of sheer exhaustion after a stressful day or heatstroke. </p><p> </p><p>00000</p><p> </p><p>None had dared to approach Tangos base yet, but it was the scene of their disappearance. I was unavoidable to investigate it. And if only to sapre the rest of the burden he had decided to pay a visit to his boisterous neighbour before anyone else made themselves do it. Xisuma would trust him to not miss anything important. He took flight and landed swiftly directly in Tangos storage system.</p><p>As Tfc appeared on the scene the only trace left of the boys were three sets of armour and a pile of empty shulker boxes, food, rockets and tools next to Tangos unlit nether portal. He swallowed the grief he felt for the young hermits and called forth faith. He gathered their items and set up the armour on armor stands, so they would be ready to be claimed by their missing owners. </p><p>Those boys are among the strongest and most quick witted youths he has met and if they can’t find a way out of this mess the old man doubts that anyone can.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will remind yall again that i am a noob at this and that this is litteraly my first story exeeding 500 words.</p><p>Also I'm swedish</p><p>Otherwise, expect a new chapter within idk at least two weeks.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A terrible fortress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Let's get down to business and sprinkle some (more) angst over this story.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i will only switch perspectives after a scene break so keep that in mind if you get confused, I’m new at this so if the perspective wasn’t clear it’s probably my fault.</p><p>Anyway this chapter is Zedaph POV exclusively.</p><p>Also I added graphic descriptions of violence when i realised what i am going to have in this and future chapters. I will state which chapters have violence in them. This is not the worst but be cautious if you are sensitive.</p><p>I have to rely on game mechanics for this, so if you are full you will heal fully, but not within seconds. Imagene a heart equals roughly two hours of healing. If you want to heal instantly you have to resort to potions.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zedaph wakes up to oppressive heat and a burning smell irritating his nose. He is still weighed down by sleep's embrace. By the time he regained some of his bearings he noticed the lack of presence beside him. Both Tango and Impulse must already be up. He rises slowly, trying to shake the fatigue and soreness of a night spent sleeping on a plank floor. </p><p>Tango is assembling some backup stone tools. Beside him, Impulse is fretting over their single blue tinted chest in an attempt to do an inventory check. “There is not much use in keeping track of our like, five belongings?” Tango said with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“No,” he sighed “but it's something to do and i can't bring myself to sit here and do nothing while we wait for Zed to wake.”</p><p>“Fair.”</p><p>The silence had just enough time to get awkward before Zedaph butted in. “What are we doing today?” This simple question acted as a catalyst for forty solid minutes of “mild” panicking over what they are going to do.</p><p>After going over their options and resources (neither of which there were many of), they concluded that they have to find a reliable source of food today. If not, they are not going to last even two days before they are too weak to be able to escape anything in this hellhole. So the plan was to venture out and find a food source.</p><p>But for adventure, you need the best equipment you can lay your grubby mits on. Yesterday they noticed that at places, poking through the red stone are glints of gold. So the first order of business is upgrading their tools to something more efficient. Mining and crafting the gold takes a while but precautions are worth it. If they are to survive they can't afford to half ass anything. </p><p>Zedaph wandered a bit off to collect more gold for tools, but something catches his eyes. A small blue mushroom. He stares at the tiny fungus, debating whether or not to take the risk and eat it. Curiosity, and resolve to find options makes quick work of any caution he inhibits. He presses his eyes shut and takes a small bite. A foul, rancid taste accompanied by a burning pain fills his mouth. He lets out a shot of pain and disgust as he spits the chewed up fungus pieces out on the netherrack floor. How anything can eat - nonetheless live off such a horrible, horrible thing is beyond him. </p><p>The way to discovery is through curiosity and exploration he reminds himself. But that doesn't seem to make the fungus taste any less disgusting. And people say the mind controls the body. </p><p>Thankfully the other two weren't here to see what he did or else he would be scolded for being “reckless” and “taking unnecessary risks for no reason” he swears Impulse and Tango never has heard of the scientific method. </p><p>He continues to gag a bit as he walks off to finish his task.</p><p> </p><p>00000</p><p> </p><p>He weights the gold sword in his hand, it may be excessively heavy and fragile. But it's edge is sharper than the ones made out of blackstone. They decided against gold armour because of its restrictive weight. Freedom of movement is more important than protection now. Gold armor can't take a ghast dead on and it's better if they are free to doge instead of trying to tank it. They don’t have the food to tank hits.</p><p>But they had a little bit of gold over, so Impulse made a helmet anyway. The extra weight is probably worth curbing his worries. Besides, with all the hardcore challenges he and Skizzleman did back in the day, Impulse is probably the best prepared out of all of them. </p><p>Lucky them that the coordination function on the communicators still works. 256, 57, - 197 is their shack.</p><p>Now geared up to the best of their ability he forcefully shoves all his dread behind excitement and takes off after his two friends. Both have determination in their step and he does his best to mirror them. </p><p>They had only walked for about half an hour when something to break up the monotony of the blue and red appeared. Just beyond a mound of blue stained netherrack is a structure much too small to be a nether fortress. </p><p>“What.” Tango says but wanes off at the end. So it really was more of a wha.</p><p>It's a nether portal, but it's fallen into ruin like it was constructed eons ago. Despite it most definitely not being there yesterday. The frame is large, at least nine blocks tall and five in with. Held up with a stone structure and iron bars. Large chunks of the frame are riddled with purple cracks, leaking, like the magic that is contained by the frame is slowly dripping out.</p><p>They had this monstrosity of a portal just a small walk away from their shelter all this time. A way back, right there. They run up to it and examine it closer.</p><p>“There must be a way to light it.” Zed says eagerly. Balancing back and forth on his heels. The crack obsidian captures his gaze and holds it. The purple veins on it look mesmerising, he has to poke it. Something about the magic makes his nerves tingle, just slightly altering everything, making the heat more bearable. Slowly extending his hand before Tango materialises right behind him and begins talking. Interrupting his movement. Snapping him out of whatever took hold of him.</p><p>“There is plenty of gravel here, but i think you can find iron in nether fortresses.” Tango speculates. </p><p>“That's a plan, we go for a fortress after we get food” And with that Impulse begins trekking through the nylium once again.</p><p>Something shifted after running into that ruined portal, every step feeling lighter and the heat more tolerable. The possibility of returning home is staring them in the eye and giving them a punch in the face with hope.</p><p>As they advance through the warped lands, the turquoise forest roof is abruptly replaced by red ones and the suft fuzz growing on the netherrack changes color as well. Looking up the biome on the communicator reveals that they wandered into a crimson forest. Biomes in the nether, isn't that a strange concept. The nether has always been a monotonous hellscape of fire and death. It being anything else feels out of place.</p><p>Not soon after, the terrain before them opened up into a sudden drop. But that isn't of any issue. They make quick work of the cliff, descending two block falls at a time.</p><p>At the base of the drop, the ground is cleaved in a deep but slim ravine. Lava bubbling far below them. Tempting them to make just one mistake. And fall. One at a time they make the jump. He braced himself against the cliff and shot off as far as he could, stumbling a bit on the landing. </p><p>They climb up red wines hanging all over from the ceiling. They are surprisingly stiff and easy to climb, rough to the touch and thicker than the vines found in jungles. They made their way up and above the ground, onto the “trees”.</p><p>Tango stopped so abruptly that Zedaph almost tackled him from behind. Before he could berate him on being careful he saw Tango’s expression. Eyes fixating on a spot beneath the canopies. “Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a pig?” Disbelief colored Tango's voice as he gestured towards something moving on the ground, something pale pink. In between the crimson fungi there is the pink form of a pig. Their hopes of survival instantly went from next to nonexistent to actually possible.</p><p>But at a second glance not wield by surprise he sees how wrong it looks, its body easily thrice the size of a pig. Sturdy legs, a gigantic snout and two giant, very dangerous looking tusks. Like everything in the nether it was like a twisted and more lethal mirror of its counterpart in the overworld. Tango seems put off for a second before shifting back to commitment to the task at hand. </p><p>“Wait,” Impulse puts a hand on Tango’s shoulder to hold him back. “We should be more cautious about this. It's not safe.” </p><p>“It's not safe to starve either.” He tugs himself away from impulse with tense motions and looks him straight in the eyes. “All that's left is two bad options, this may be our only chance to get food today.”</p><p>The swine they found was by itself with no sign of any pack in the surrounding area. Tango was right, this may be the only chance they get. That sentiment solidified into a resolve. Zedaph slowly moved to stand by Tango in a show of support. Impulse relented with a sigh and backed off.</p><p>They moved to surround the creature in the trees. The plan was to attack it at three different angles at the same time. The swine hadn't seen them yet, milling about in ways that were eerily similar to normal pigs. He made eye contact with Tango, who nodded. Hastily downing the crimson wines. They surrounded it and cut it off from escape.</p><p>They charge it at the same time, rising their gilded swords to strike. It turns towards Tango and barrels towards him, but Tango doesn't falter and continues forward at the same pace. At the same time the gold punctures thick skin, a tusk slashes up a hip. Tango crumples to the ground. Before the beast has time to maul his friend Zed lets out a yell, calling the beasts attention to him. Moments before its tusks reach his very squishy flesh. Impulse jumps on it and buries his sword in its neck. It squeles out in pain, but Impulse holds on and the swine is taken out a couple of stabs later. It lets out a final cry and dissolves in two wonderful pork chops. </p><p>Zedaph rushes over to where Tango is lying while Impulse picks up the meat before joining him. They sit on opposite sides of him. Tango doesn't look very hot at the moment, with a wound going straight across his right hip. It’s shallow but large, too large to stop bleeding by itself. He is sweating and not only because of the constant heat, his breathing is labored. His face is a tad too pale, especially considering the flushed look they all have sported since arriving here.</p><p>“We did it!” Tango pauses to regain his breath. “You guys are awesome, especially you Impulse. It really shows that you have done a lot of survival challenges.” Despite how roughed up he was, his smile was as genuine and joyful as ever.</p><p>“shut up and lie still.” It was a rare feat but Tango's stunt had terrified him to the bones. He didn't deserve to pretend that nothing happened.</p><p>“We got food, what's with the attitude?” He smiles and reaches to stroke Zed's chin, hand resting there a moment before falling flat on the ground in a loss of energy.</p><p>“We are upset because you are way too reckless!” He paused, too angry to think of any inventive insults. But when in doubt, resort to the classics. “You idiot!”</p><p>“Heh, you can say that again. But it would be worth it if it means we escape alive.” He forced himself through the sentence as if his lungs did not hold enough air to release it.</p><p>“We have to move you if more of the hogs are going to spawn here.” i Impulse butted in, his hands were resting on Tango’s arm but his gaze was locked on the spaces between the trees.</p><p>“No problem, I can totally handle it, no problem whatsoever.” He scoffs and exaggerates his tone with feigned nonchalance.</p><p>Impulse hoists Tango up on his feet and he gasps out in pain. He attempts standing up. The moment he puts weight on his injured side his knee gives out and he falls over with an accompanying yell. Impulse catches him and hooks Tango's arm over his shoulders, supporting him</p><p>“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Tango groans. He is swaying on his feet, as if he was on a boat. </p><p>“Come on, the sooner we get to safety the sooner we can patch you up.” They really don't know where it is safe here so they elect not to take any risks out in the open. Impulse gestures at Tango's other side with his head. Zed takes the hint and puts Tango's other arm over his shoulders, mindful of the injury on that side.</p><p>“It will be very difficult to get up the cliff with you like this, Tango.” Impulse stresses the last bit, his voice has lost its jovial tone. </p><p>“I’ll see if we can find an easier way back.” Zed is eternally grateful that coordinates still work.</p><p>“What cords did our base have again?” </p><p>“256, 57, - 197.” </p><p>“Right.” A beat passes when he tries to sort out the cardinal directions. “It’s this way.” He gestures at a slightly different angle than where they came from. </p><p>Tango is looking more exhausted than he does when he pulls an allnighter of work, his jaw is clenched shut. Zedpah is struggling to hold onto him, hands slipping. Met with pained whimpers when he accidentally touches him too close to the wound. He is practically running on fumes by now, muscles burning in effort. But failure now isn’t an option and by proxy, neither is success.</p><p>This is going to be a long hike back to safety. He has never experienced the phrase “blood sweat and tears' ' so literally before.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While my writing may be as slow as a turtle on soul sand, it is, like the turtle, always moving forward. Expect a slowness potion to be splashed on that metaphorical turtle because I have now started school again. I'm now a second year in Swedish terms, and a Junior in American ones. </p><p>Another reminder that I have proverbial beef with english grammar and am not a native english speaker, also I do these solely by myself, for the first time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Subspace Bubble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Time for some zoutchies.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know this chapter is shorter but it was originally the end of the previous chapter that got too long. So enjoy the (relatively) short update time. </p>
<p>At first it’s Zedaph POV then it switches to Impulse POV.</p>
<p>Also they didn't get the chance to check the name of the hoglin with their communicators, so they don’t actually know what it’s called. But for everything else, just imagine they checked it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They managed to get themselves out of the crimson forest before they could run into another hog. The different course they took meant that they were now approaching a sea of boiling rock, it’s orange waves strangely lively and volatile here unlike the slow and lazy appearance it takes back home.</p>
<p>Just beyond the shore of the fiery ocean a black brige rises. Arching well over their heads, connecting to a huge cubical shape of blackstone. Half in the ocean and half in a wall, covered openings that reach farther in in the stone like cave formations. There are mobs all over it, walking and speaking with pig-like grunts. They all bear weapons and some have gold armour. They notice Impulse and Tango before him and stare at them with wary eyes. His friends tense at the looks they get and for just a moment everything is still. The pigs don't do anything and they move on with a snort. Disregarding the initial stare off, their behaviour reminds him of villagers' curious passiveness. </p>
<p>“They don't seem very hostile.” Impulse whispers loudly. He shakes a bit under the weight of Tango and a gold helmet.</p>
<p>“These are the unzombieficated versions of the zombieficated piglin, of course they aren't hostile.” Tango rebukes in a normal volume. He is beginning to sound a bit delirious, most likely from blood loss. If he stares at them for too long in this fog he and Impulse looks like a single entity.</p>
<p>But when Zed shows himself all of the piglins blank gazes snap to him. And in unison they raise their weapons, draw swords and load crossbows. His body freezes up, he can't make himself move. Just as Impulse begins to drag Tango back. He is knocked back by a blow to his shoulder. </p>
<p>His sight sharpens for just a moment when the arrow hits, everything gets thrown into sharp detail and just for a moment he is aware of everything around him. The hot air rising from the ocean, his heart thumping in his ears, the shocked cries of his friends, the sounds of dozens of creatures shouting in foreign language cursing at him to leave but not able to chase him down with the ocean in the way. But The sharp awareness disappears as suddenly as it came and is replaced by a crippling pain. The shift from cold focus to dysequilibrium made his head spin. </p>
<p>Someone takes a grip on his jersey and drags him harshly, the action jostling the arrow, making him subject to waves of pain, as soon as one ebbs its replaced by another, seemingly worse than the last.</p>
<p>When they finally stop after what feels like an eternity or two. He slowly becomes aware of the world around him. The first thing he notices is the warm feeling steadily trickling by his hand. He furrows his brows and follows the crimson flood up the arm. Before his eyes meet with a crudely made arrow, sticking out of his shoulder. Blood doused his jersey around it, the stain getting bigger by the second. The feeling of the red liquid on his arm was almost hotter than the blistering air around him. </p>
<p>He brings his hand over to the wound and after a moment of hesitation, clutches it over his wound to stop his inside juices from going outside. Impulse goes up to him and cradles his face, hands clammy with sweat and skin dry and flakey.</p>
<p>“Are you okay.” Impulse says, borderline hysterical. “you have to be okay, I can’t carry both of you and Tango can’t walk.” He hears the “are you going to survive?” that he doesn't dare to let out.</p>
<p>“I don't know.” He was never much of a liar, “But we don't know unless I try, right?” </p>
<p>He takes a slow rattling breath before he puts his legs under him. powering through the pain.(pain is temporary, it doesn't matter, it won't matter) “I don't need my arm to walk, help Tango.” He doesn't mention how horrible he feels because it doesn't matter, this is the only option.</p>
<p>Impulse nods and moves to lift Tango again. And then they are off on the worst hike Zedaph has ever had the pleasure to go through.</p>
<p>One feet before the other, stumble and feel another pang of pain bisecting the blanket of numbness that is now steadily covering the right side of his torso. Continue forward and he will eventually get to rest. It hurts, but he can rest soon. Impulse will fix this. fix him. and fix Tango. </p>
<p>They will go home soon right?</p>
<p>Right?</p>
<p>One more step. </p>
<p>One more. </p>
<p>Another . . .</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally,<br/>Rest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>00000</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tango's body is weighing him down, his grip becoming more painful by the minute, fingers digging into soft flesh. Impulses arm slips down and he reaffirms his grip yet again. Tango is walking the best he can with one leg practically out of commission. He is too fatigued to carry Tango fully so all he can do is support some of his weight and help him balance. </p>
<p>But his concern also lies on the man walking beside them. Zed is swaying as he walks, stumbling forward at an uneven pace. His normally violet eyes are glossed over and unfocused. (Painfully unlike the playful clarity they should possess.)  He is about five times more uncoordinated than normal aside from his left hand which is grasped in a dead man's grip around his arrow wound. Blood is staining the majority of his sleeve. Drops of dark liquid slowly dribbling by his fingers and blends into the red ground.</p>
<p>He has resigned to verbally guide Zed back to the shelter. Constantly giving instructions and encouragement. Even if he really can't tell if Zed even understands his words or if he just reacts to auditory stimuli.</p>
<p>“We are soon at the cliff, after that it's basically on the home stretch.” the optimism feels so hollow that if you knocked on it, the sound would reverberate quite a bit. But he stretches his smile a bit wider in hopes of reassuring his friends.</p>
<p>Tango yelps when Impulse grips too tight and scratches him. (when did his nails get that long? when did they get that sharp?) A single pair of crimson drops gets up through the scratch and smears on Impulse's hand.</p>
<p>They managed to avoid the steep cliff. But as a trade off, the majority of the walk is uphill. Their pace is painfully slow. But eventually, finally, does the crimson fungi slowly make way for warped ones. He quickened his pace the best he can with Tango literally hanging off him.</p>
<p>It didn't take long before the forest parted and a small clearing revealed itself. And there, against a wall is their sloppy built shelter. He hasn't been this relieved in his life. The final stretch goes by infinitely slow. He only tripped once when he was attempting to get Tango through the door frame. He began to lower Tango onto the floor when he realized that it wasn't the most ideal place to treat a patient.</p>
<p>He quickly assembles two eveated cots out of wood. He helps Tango over to one of them, gently letting him down and settling him on the side with his wound as elevated as possible to minimize blood loss. Tango just sinks into the uncomfortable material like it was the softest thing he ever laid on without a word. Within seconds he looks halfway asleep. If you are tired enough, anything can be a bed. </p>
<p>Zedaph crumples to the ground by a wall, head tucked between his knees. Impulse rushed over to him and all he could hear from Zed was loud, shallow breaths filled to the brim with panic. He kneels down next to him in an attempt at comforting. Or at least to calm him a bit. Zed forces out a sentence between flaking lips, in a voice that sounds way too weary and small for his boisterous friend. “I can't feel my arm.” </p>
<p>Said arm had a good four decimeter long arrow sticking out of it, Impulse tears his eyes from it and looks his friend in the eyes under his sloping bangs “It's the adrenaline, if we can get food in you before it wears off we will have saved you from the worst of the pain.”</p>
<p>He hugs him as carefully he can and whispers into his ear. “We’ll be okay”</p>
<p>But not soon after he has to withdraw, both of them are stable, he isn't needed by their side for a short while. He moves to the kitchen (A corner with a total of two furnaces.) and pulls out what Tango risked his life to get: two pork chops. They are weirdly heavy in his hands, weighed down by the lengths they went for them. He puts them in an oven to cook before they make him think too much. And shifts his attention to his friends once again.</p>
<p>He really tries his best to tend to their wounds, but without proper supplies or sanitation there is only so much he could do. He resorted to tearing up Zed’s t-shirt he wore under his cardigan as it was the least sooty bit of cloth they owned. While he tended to Zed's arrow wound, it hit him. This wound is way too close to his neck. A couple of centimeters to the left and team ZIT would be down a member. He watched as Tango got his leg sliced up and was robbed of his ability to walk, however temporary, could’ve been lethal. He gripped the makeshift bandages tighter and forced his focus back on the wound. He failed to keep them in one piece, so damn him if he isn't going to mend them back together. </p>
<p>He retreats to a corner and pulls his communicator out to try and massage someone. </p>
<p>&lt; ImpulseSV &gt; Bdubs? Can you read this? <br/>MESSAGE FAILED TO DELIVER</p>
<p>A friend.</p>
<p>&lt; ImpulseSV &gt; Suma? plese<br/>MESSAGE FAILED TO DELIVER</p>
<p>Someone that could help.</p>
<p>&lt; ImpulseSV &gt; Joe? Hpyno?<br/>MESSAGE FAILED TO DELIVER</p>
<p>Someone that could do something, anything.</p>
<p>&lt; ImpulseSV &gt; Help someneo.<br/>MESSAGE FAILED TO DELIVER</p>
<p>He writes more and more and more, his words becoming more and more illegeble, in hopes that someone sees and comes to his - their rescue. But no one sees his messages and no one comes to help. They are alone. Their survival depended on him for a couple of hours and he hated that responsibility, one slip up and everything and anything that went wrong would be on him.</p>
<p>He tosses his communicator at the wall. He hears his heart inside his ears and he feels the ground moving under him. The lump in his throat thickens at the realisation that  because he didn’t react fast enough to save them, they were right there and he didn’t act. But before he could derail further his mind was brought to the oven. And he almost runs to it in hopes of doing something. Focusing on what happens in the moment is easier than pondering the very possibility of a permadeath.</p>
<p>The pork was done, he winched as his hand accidentally touched the inside of the piping hot furnace, but to his surprise it didn't hurt nearly the amount it should, his hand throbs dully with pain but he didnt even burn himself that badly, (stone doesn't cool that fast, especially in this heat) He must have gotten lucky. </p>
<p>He didn't tell them that they only had two pork chops. If he did, they would insist on sharing, and they wouldn't get enough nutrition to heal their wounds. Being injured here was a risk he couldn't let them take for him. </p>
<p>His mouth waters at the mere sight of food, but he can't indulge himself, not when both of them are injured and the only way for them to heal is food. He can’t afford to be selfish, Tango and Zedaph can’t afford for him to be selfish.</p>
<p>They bite into the juicy flesh with satisfied noises, the meat looks like the tasties pieces of pork he has ever seen. Impulse cant help himself from licking his lips. He winches slightly when his tongue gets caught on a tooth and cuts itself on it. His blood leaves an iron taste in his mouth and it curbs his hunger a bit.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will use the metric system for this because I am european even if Impulse and Tango are American, (in universe headcanon for this is because minecraft was made by a swede, they use the metric system (a block is a meter) Also i headcanon that galactic (or the enchantment table language) is verbally the same as Swedish, as it is the original language of the “gods” or something.)</p>
<p>That could lead to some interesting Iskall and Keralis headcanons.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hidden in the depths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Transformation central</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter features me trying to be consistent with tense and other basic writing skills.</p>
<p>ANYWAY, Tango POV exclusively in this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn't know why he was awake. Someone woke him. Where is he? He moved to get up but was halted by a hand against his chest. “Tango, you don't have to get up, I’m just removing the bandages so your wound won't heal around them.” </p>
<p>It’s Impulse. He knows this Impulse. It's the Impulse that takes all his energy and more to pour it into work and caring for other people. Tango wishes he could take care of him the same way. But he drifts away mere moments after Impulse stops messing around with his bandages.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>00000</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tango was having a good day if you put it into juxtaposition to the other days he’s had recently. Besides the persistent headache. He can move freely now if he is cacious. The (mostly) healed wound doesn't hurt more than a pulled muscle. Nonetheless Impulse had ordered both him and Zedaph not to exert themselves. Y’know, like a hypocrite.</p>
<p>He dismissed his concern over Impulses work habits by locating Zed, who had wandered off for the fifth time in forty minutes. Fortunately he finds him immediately just a couple of blocks away, pointing his communicator at anything and everything in sight. He mumbled to himself as he reads the block IDs. “Twisting vines, Shroomlight, Warped sprouts.” He left Zed to explore and returned to sticking his nose in the dirt(?) in hope of finding mushrooms.</p>
<p>He stared at a hearty turquoise fungi growing on the dry ground, contemplating whether or not it's a good idea to try to eat it. Before he could think twice he severed its stem with his nails, raised it to his mouth and bit into it. The foul taste hit him immediately, but it was too late and the dry fungus slipped down his throat. A burning filled his mouth, bile rose in his throat and nauseousness rose steadily. He fell to his knees, trying to steady the world spinning around him. But as soon as the spell hit him it vanished,</p>
<p>He lifted himself back onto his feet slowly, expecting another attack. But after a moment or two of hesitation he found that he was perfectly fine. No need to tell the other two if nothing else happens.</p>
<p>A sudden dread hit him. Like his mind was screaming at him to do something. To hide, run, get away. He stood frozen in place, acutely aware of everything. His muscles tensed up. A drop of sweat ran down his forehead and slowly made its way down his nose where it stopped. Why is he on edge? Surely he can't be this messed up already? </p>
<p>Before he could question his sanity further he heard murmurs, like words coming out of something not made to make them, not anymore. God, endermen are creepy. Beyond a warped trunk, the dark rods that make up its legs poked forth. It stalked towards Zed. Before he could think twice he dashed over to him with unexpected speed, and somehow navigated through the shrubbery. He grabbed Zed's head and turned it downwards. Zed flinched and tensed up at the contact. He violently swinged his head around, but relaxed when his eyes met Tango's face. He lowered himself and Zed onto the ground and makes sure to shield their peripheral vision with his arms. “Enderman.” he whispered. </p>
<p>Zed nodded and covered his own field of vision. Waiting for the creature to disappear, seeing nothing but the ground and the others face. They were sitting ducks, not able to do anything but wait. They knew from experience, that without armour, an enderman can kill you in just a few hits. The mangled words through a warped throat echoes closer and he can feel his heart picking up speed. For a single, haunting moment he could almost picture it breathing down his neck. But the soft sound of displaced space went off, and all that was left was a deafening silence. After an indistugable amount of time they both find the courage to get up, there was nothing, noone around them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>00000</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They managed to scrounge up enough mushrooms for a small ration each, but the method couldn't be counted on for much longer. All the edible, familiar mushrooms they could find were wilted and withering away. Updates can do that to a species, when a habitat wasn't meant for them anymore. </p>
<p>When their small shack was once again in their sight, something was missing from it. A wall, a whole inner wall was missing and Impulse stood right in the absence, digging at the netherrack as fast as his blackstone pickaxe allowed him. His movements were sloppy and sweat practically ran in a flood down his forehead. He had bruises on his upper arms that he shouldn't have if he ate last night. He must have gotten them during the sleeping hours. But despite the exhaustion he showed no sign of stopping.</p>
<p>“Didnt you have a gold pickaxe this morning?” Zed asks in the door frame, Tango falling into step beside him. </p>
<p>“Yes, I did,“ Impulse chuckles a little. “It broke, half a stack isn't much.” Both he and Zed were regarding Impulse with pointed looks. “I want the bedroom to be in the wall, as far as it can go from outside and the furnaces,” Impulse had always been impulsive in what projects were worth spending time on, but this was just a tiny bit ridiculous.  “If only I knew more about thermodynamics.” He was still rambling about the shelter. Tango supposes he shouldn't be that surprised, impulses idea of relaxing is more work.</p>
<p>“Are you sure you shouldn't rest, you don't look too hot, man.” Impulses hands were shaking more and more by the tick. The heavy blackstone pickaxe slowly slid from his grip.</p>
<p>“I'm fine. I wasn't the one that got injured.” Impuses words cut in the air. He took a step towards tango and raised the pickaxe in front of him. Tango grabs the side of the tool and tilts it away from him.</p>
<p>“I know you Impulse. I have known you for a long time. I know how you get when you are stressed. You work at the problem until it goes away, but you can't fix this so you will just work until you waste away.” He tries his best to keep his voice even but he can't help to raise his voice. Can't Impulse see how reckless he is behaving?</p>
<p>Impulse took a hasty step backwards and crashed into Zed’s chest. “We don't want you to go like this Impy.” Tango takes a shuddering breath, trying to loosen the pain welling in his throat. “Please just rest.” His voice sounds small and Impulses eyes soften. </p>
<p>“okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>00000</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It didn't take long to turn the small mushrooms into stew. He slowly grinded the mushrooms between his teeth to make it last longer. Juxtaposed to Impulse, whose ration was gone within ticks. The stew was bland and had a freaky, grainy texture to it. He's not full. </p>
<p>Something in the stuffy air shifts, outside the windows fell a small drizzle of turquoise pollen. Pollen? spores? spores. The headache that had been plaguing him since morning hit Tango with full force. His bowl clatters to the ground, stew spilling out in a shallow puddle beneath it. Something pressed against inside his very skull. Pains came in waves, like something was attempting to birth from it. Everytime a wave ebbed and he believed that it might be over, another arrived, worse than the last. He lost track of how long he was trapped in the cycle of pain, fleeting relief and more pain.</p>
<p>His breaths became short and littered with pained whines. Prying open his eyes, both Impy and Zed are crumpled to the ground. Cradling their heads, spasming occasionally.</p>
<p>The sudden relief from the pain made him boneless in relief. Adjusting his grip on his head, his hands brushes against a growth. A bit below his hairline, above his eyes, are two nugget sized bumps. They hurt to the touch, and are hard, like his skull decided to change shape. He withdraws a hand and it's covered by dead skin. It stuck under his nails. His nails didn't look like that two days ago. They have sharp points. Their grey color wasn't from the soot. </p>
<p>“Getting hit in the face by a mass of update magic wasn't going to go away by itself, huh.” Impulse caresses his head but flinches away when he reaches his forehead. </p>
<p>“This change has been going for as long as we've been here. There was nothing we could do.” Zed's eyes are fixed to his hands (claws) addressing each detail like it would give him answers.</p>
<p>“Best case scenario it's fixable. Otherwise we'll be like Doc, Cleo, Ren and Jevin, they are amazing right?” Tangos chest was tightening around his bits. “Suma can fix us right?” </p>
<p>“X said that the update would finish cooking in two weeks right?” Zed said.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” </p>
<p>“But why did he say that if it is already done? Nothing else is changing here.” </p>
<p>“So there must be a reason he barred us from entry.” Impulse says, a little more like himself.</p>
<p>“I have experience in coding, It has been a while but it was important to stay away from updates, Something about them updating everything.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>00000</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They ended up curled up next to each other against the wall in the coolest corner of the shelter. Tango was spread out over both of them, having claimed the middle of the pile. The wood floor and their sharp limbs were somehow comfortable, if only because of how safe they made him feel. Their body heat wasn't bothering him as much as he thought it would. He didn't care if the heat-tolerance was due to the same thing as the bumps. Count your blessings. They had been too few. When nothing makes sense he finds he appreciates his partners more.</p>
<p>He was slowly sinking into that inviting, warm, calm that before a movement at his left dragged him out of it. Impulse was getting up, stood up and stabilized himself by resting against the wall. Mumbling to himself, he rubbed his forearm in a frantic manner. </p>
<p>“Hey, where are you going man?” His words were rough and sluggish. Impulse stops and tenses up.</p>
<p>“Can't sleep. I'm going out for fresh air.” He was out of the door before Tango could respond.</p>
<p>“Okay.” He sat in the same spot, just enjoying Zedaphs comforting weight on him. Breathing slowly. In. Out. Just existing in the moment. </p>
<p>“Hey Tango, Where did Impulse go?” Zed's voice was thick with sleep.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he left like fifteen minutes ago.”</p>
<p>“What.” Zed blinked and his eyes went wide “Where? why?”</p>
<p>“No idea.”  </p>
<p>“Why did you let him leave tango? We are supposed to stay together.” He grabbed Tangos shoulders and shook him.</p>
<p> “Man, why didn't i stop him?” He didn't stop Impulse because he trusted him to not be stupid.</p>
<p>“Doesn't matter, we have to find him, like now!” </p>
<p>“Yeah right of course!” </p>
<p>“Go! go! go!”</p>
<p>He almost runs into a wall attempting to collect all that they would need. Collecting tools and their small pool of resources. Both of them are out of the shelter and on their way through the warped forest within minutes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know they could technically make regen pots but those require a ghast tear and they don't know the loot tables of striders and trying to kill a ghast without bows is just too stupid, even for them. And that's not even considering the location of the blaze spawners.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Withering heights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The end?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Also here's my justification for the M rating so proceed carefully, I tried to make this as gory as I dared. </p>
<p>Experimenting is fun.</p>
<p>This is a long boi</p>
<p>Impulse then Tango then Zed</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Impulse moved towards something, searching for something. His nose twitched. Advancing through the crimson vegetation as if pulled by an invisible force. His stomach turned in on itself, making it hard to think. His knees buckled under him suddenly and he rolled harshly into the undergrowth. Without pause he was on his feet again, stumbling forward. Bruises littered his body from bumping into branches, tripping on roots, dragging himself across rough stems. Not before long his knees and palms were bleeding and his body had collected too many bruises to count, none of which were healing like they should. His body throbbing and stinging until it was like one big painful bruise. Yet he didn't stop. Whether he was moving towards or away from something, he didn't know. Maybe both.</p>
<p>He fell to his knees the moment the forest opened up into a gale. He could stop, but not rest. Not yet. Crimson trees towered around him on all sides, closing in on him. He gripped at the red ground, clenching and unclenching his hands. Body shaking violently from lack of nutrients. His breaths were uneven and laborious, lips flaky. His mouth filled with the taste of iron, it made him think of Tango for a moment before it went foggy again. </p>
<p>A need was within him, a hole without bottom, swallowing everything inside him until the need to fill the hole was all that remains. And then he knew that he would do anything to fill it. He was scared of what that meant. Impulse fell, and something new stepped up in his place. Something primal. The transition from prey to predator was instant.</p>
<p>Movement. Just a couple of dozen blocks away from him. Food. He can take them, he has to take them, attack, tear, bite, feed on them. Let them fill the hole. Saliva filled his mouth. They came closer, so close that he could reach out and touch them if he wanted.</p>
<p>They were threatening him at first, making themselves big, predators taunting their prey. He's not scared like last time. He's alone, and he sees nothing but the temptation in front of him, ripe for the taking. Invigorated with desire and newfound instincts. He slowly pushed himself off the ground. Flexing his fingers, pulling out his claws, sharper and longer than before. He bared his fangs in a snarl, tensed his legs taut, and took off. </p>
<p>The herd scattered like a school of very big fish. They were afraid of him now, terrified. They should be. An inhuman roar escaped his throat as he closed in on the slowest of the prey.</p>
<p>Heartbeat pounding in his ears, steadily growing louder until all he could hear was a violent rush of blood. His claws dug into juicy flesh and took a hefty chunk out of its hindleg. If it cried out in pain, he didn't hear it. Beneath red, something white and sharp poked through. His hands were now slick with pig's blood. He can't tear his eyes from the gleaming red coating them, he brings one of them to his mouth without thinking. And for a tick, he feels the hole filling just a bit, he bathes in its glow before it's gone. With a taste the hole grows deeper yet, his need grows stronger. He bites his lips and a sharp pain flares, his own blood mixes with the hogs. </p>
<p>He doesn't feel the tusk burrowing into his side. He doesn't feel a dying animal's last attempt at defense. So caught up in his euphoria to be full again, to feed. The tusk falls out again. He doesn't feel his own blood mixing with his prey.</p>
<p>He let his claws dig into flesh, tearing apart large flaps of pink, stringy flesh. The blood that wells up was mesmerising to watch flow down the huge body, all and warm. He tears it apart as it still is living, slurping in flesh and blood alike, desperately trying to sate his plaguing hunger. To fill the hole that opened inside him. As he continued eating, blood coated his arms and face. Within the blood sticking to his face, something else stood out. Tears, tears spilled out and mixed with the gore. </p>
<p>Why is he crying? </p>
<p>What is he doing? Why? This isn't him. Why? Please stop. Please stop, Why? Pleasestoppleasestoppleasestoppleasestoppleasestoppleasestop. </p>
<p>The hog dissolved into nothing. Blood was covering the ground like a mat, steam filling the air with a tangy, metal smell when it evaporated. The blood was his own. Bringing his hand to his chest he finds a hole where it should be. He empties slowly out on the ground. Black spots fill his vision. His heart beats faster yet, and he empties slower. He's almost empty.</p>
<p>His mind clears for just a tick. And he thinks of two blondes and laughter chiming like bells.</p>
<p>He thinks of home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>00000</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hot bricks burned his feet as Tango leapt down the fortress bridge. It was suspended far above the lava oceans, creating a scalding updraft. Looking back, entering a nether fortress might not have been that smart. But in his defense he's not intelligent, and he is willing to do a lot in hopes of finding Impy. But they had failed to consider all the risks. And now wither Skeletons were just around the corner, their long strides slowly gaining on them. </p>
<p>“TANGO! GHAST!” Zed bellowed, rasping.</p>
<p>He looked up.</p>
<p>A great white mass stared down at him. The ghast let out a horrible wail whose sharp edges cut into his bared soul. </p>
<p>He regained his senses in the last possible moment. With all his strength he threw himself aside. The blast propelled him violently and he skidded over hard tiles, skin tearing on the rough brick, rolling. Until the ground disappeared under him. He shot his hands out and grabbed on. He burrowed his fingers (claws?) into the old wall, fingers aching in strain. Skin on his fingers split. </p>
<p>He hears a cry over the ledge followed by an explosion.</p>
<p>Zed.</p>
<p>“Zed! Are you okay? Where are you?” He wailed.</p>
<p>“Tango! Hang in there man! I’ll come get you!” </p>
<p>Zed was too far away.</p>
<p>His grip faltered and his pupils dilated in fear, they flickered everywhere not truly seeing anything. He blinked and maroon eyes bled over into a fierce red without either scalera or pupils. Crimson pools that held nothing but terror as his grip slipped. Under him was a sea ablaze. Above him, withers crowded. Death above, death under, no way to go. The sweltering heat grabbed onto him with its heavy limbs and dragged, towards the fiery depths. He tried to force his fingers further in when a small “crack” sounded. </p>
<p>He fell holding the piece of masonry. He was weightless for a tick, and then his back hit the blazing seas below with a loud “smack”. The bridge was nothing but a blurry shape above the heatwaves. </p>
<p>Pain.</p>
<p>Nothing but white, hot, pain. His very skin flared up in fire and fumes.</p>
<p>A foul stench of seared flesh stabbed into his nose. The most guttural and horrible sound filled his lungs and resonated with the pain pleading for it to be over. He had died of lava before, it was almost instant. </p>
<p>The agony went on for eternity and not until the pain had consumed him whole, engulfed his whole body. The scalding liquid washed over his face, melted his lips and ran down his throat. </p>
<p>He sank, choking on molten rock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>00000</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Tango wasn't here, he was here and then there was an explosion and now he's gone.</p>
<p>He snaps his focus back to the ghast and falls into a strange focus. He draws the gold sword. He holds the heavy blade before him with astounding ease. Wailing grated in his ears once again and a fire charge came straight towards him. </p>
<p>He raised the sword and struck the charge head on with a howl.</p>
<p>The following explosion blasted a wave of compressed heat right on him and the ghast disintegrated. He stood there for a tck and watched the giant body disappear into nothing, chunks falling off and dissolving into fine sand that were gone before it hit the ground. The sound of sticks hitting stones snapped him back to reality. Bones slamming against the brick, wither skeletons were closing in on him, way too many for him to take on his own. Tango was shouting something, his words were drowned by the beating of his heart.</p>
<p>“Tango! Hang in there man! I’ll come get you!” </p>
<p>He held his ground as the skeletons closed the gap between them. He just had to get through them to get to Tango.</p>
<p>The wails started when swords descended down on him. Horrible screeces of pain, inhuman in nature. Even the wither skeletons had frozen up in their onslaught, turning to the origins of the sound. Below. A brief pause in the wailing occurred, like it had run out of breath. Only for it to start once again. It was different now, a rasping, tortuous whine that had an eerie familiarity to it. </p>
<p>“TANGO!”</p>
<p>It was too late, the cries had died off, and his friend was gone. Something inside him snapped. He blinked and saw red, he was filled with something horrible and primal. The grip on his sword grew tighter and rammed it into the ribcage of one of the skeletons. The blade snapped in half inside of it. He raised the handle and bashed it into the skeletons cranium, once, twice, thrice, over and over until he was left with a pile of bones and a cloud of coal dust burning in his throat. </p>
<p>One of the tall cunts tried to cut him with a long and slow arc, he caught the bony arms. When it tried to push down, he held back. His arms quacked at the strain. He let go and pushed the weapon to the side, leaving his enemy open. And rammed his head right in its ribcage. It broke on impact, the shock reverberated down through his skull.</p>
<p>Its body began breaking down, leaving him standing there with two ebony skelton arms. The hole in the ribcage looked a bit strange, there were two wide points of breakage instead of one big. </p>
<p>He was hit on his side. He dropped the arms. Looking down, a stone blade was sinking into his guts. It was barbred with thorns from a rose, hooking into his flesh. He swerved around, moving against the blade, sawing the wound. He threw his hands towards the skeleton. Took a firm grip against the skull and pushed. The bone cracked with a loud snap, he filed his nails in the cracks and pulled. The skull split in two.</p>
<p>The last skeleton dissolved into a pile of bones and coal dust. Leaving him with a single wound. It was laughably small, but his flesh began to darken around it. He felt a bone deep chill flare up in his skin. Zedaph sat down as his legs began to shiver and his head swam. His flesh slowly flaking off as it died. The wound grew to twice its previous size within minutes. A black sludge oozed out of it, smoking slightly. In the veins around the wound something was visibly spreading throughout his body, slowly making its way towards his heart. He just stared at it, for what could he do? He won't abandon Tango this way, perhaps he will end up at the same place as Impulse as well. Dying is horrible and respawning is ten times worse. </p>
<p>He lets go of his side, giving up. He gritted his teeth as another wave of sickness hit him. Something was curling around his legs. He didn't look. He was tired, he laid down and closed his eyes. </p>
<p>He didn't open them. </p>
<p>His body floated away in the updraft surrounding the fortress.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>They can respawn but:</p>
<p>1. it sucks ass <br/>2. it makes things permanent<br/>3. its probably janky as hell atm</p>
<p>The most stress on a mind happens during the climax of the “update”. Their human consciousness is pushed away in favour of the monster until they get in control, or out of a stressful situation. Hunger in particular is notorious for making mobs go haywire, to do atrocious things. Impulse would have eaten his friends if they were the easier target, he was that hungry. I like to think he knew that on some level, that he isn't safe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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